


you push and you pull

by maryabolkonskaya



Series: great comet college au!!! [1]
Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Asexual Pierre Bezukhov, Libraries, M/M, anatole is a child, andrey is ??? so cute ???, andrey is very cute and blushy, i'm love him, if that's how you spell it, marya d knows e v e r y t h i n g, pierre is ambidextrous, the cask of amontillado is referenced, their names are Too Damn Long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryabolkonskaya/pseuds/maryabolkonskaya
Summary: The boy that walked in thirty minutes later was definitely not just nothing.





	1. in which i reference the cask of amontillado because reasons

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey my bros/gals/non-binary pals
> 
> i'm making this into a COLLEGE AU because i'm trash
> 
> xoxo love y'all thanks for reading this mess
> 
> (the title sucks I KNOOOW)

Pierre Bezukhov _really_ needed to study. He'd procrastinated on reading "The Cask of Amontillado", and was supposed to be turning in an analysis of the character Fortunato in two days. The only way Pierre would be able to finish said analysis would be to either A) hole himself up in his room for two days and try to ignore his roommate's, Anatole's, rambling about this Dolokhov person he'd been eyeing up for a little while (Pierre felt terribly bad for Dolokhov, if Anatole's hopeless flirting with Natasha was any indication of his abilities to keep a steady relationship), or B) hole himself up behind Marya's desk in the library where no one could bother him and he would be in good company. Option B also gave Pierre the added bonus of boy-watching when his hand began to cramp up. It was most likely this that shifted option B in Pierre's favor.

And so, on October 23, Pierre entered the library, pulling a dark chocolate Hershey bar out of his coat pocket in order to bribe Marya. _She must be psychic_ , Pierre thought, because as soon as he walked up to the desk she held out her hand expectantly. Or maybe she just saw his backpack, filled to the brim with paper and pens. He smiled as he handed her the candy bar, and she winked, flipping open the small door that she used to get behind her desk.

"Thanks," Pierre said gratefully. "Anatole has gone into full pining mode for Dolokhov and I don't know how long it'll be before he does something incredibly stupid."

Marya smiled knowingly - _did she know something Pierre didn't_? _Whatever_ , Pierre thought as he pulled out the chair from under the desk, _it must be nothing_.

However, the boy that walked in thirty minutes later was definitely not just nothing. He was in line behind a girl with curly hair that reached about her shoulders - _Hélène_ , Pierre thought, _Anatole's sister._ They'd had a fling for about a month when Pierre was a freshman which had quickly ended when he'd realized he was gay. She'd been immensely supportive, and to this day they were on good terms.

The mystery boy must have noticed Pierre staring in his general direction because he coughed and blushed, directing all of Pierre's attention onto him. He had a tote bag with the words "I'm not here" on them and a book in his hand that looked like a fucking monster.

"How many pages is that?" Pierre asked, mentally chiding himself for asking such a stupid question.

The boy quickly flipped to the back of the book, hands shaking, and responded with, "One thousand eight-five."

Pierre whistled lowly and grinned. "How long did it take you?"

"A week," the boy responded, shrugging his shoulders like it was nothing.

Pierre's jaw dropped. "Damn, okay. Way to make a guy feel inferior. I procrastinated on reading "The Cask of Amontillado" for a month, and it's, like, really short."

The man laughed quietly and smiled. "What's your name?"

"Pierre."

"Andrey."

"That's a pretty name. Sounds like royalty."

Andrey's blush returned. "Thanks. Yours sounds like..."

"Something a child would name a pet?"

Andrey shrugged. "It fits."

Marya looked between them after Helene had left and grinned. "You two are so cute."

They both blushed and, somehow, paled at the same time, stuttering helplessly.

"No, I'm-"

"I mean-"

"I'm not-"

"Ummm-"

Marya laughed and looked to Andrey. "Need something, honey?"

Andrey walked up to the counter. "Just to return this, please," he mumbled, avoiding Pierre's eyes. He handed Marya the book and quickly left, mumbling a "thanks" in response to Marya's "you're welcome."

Pierre frowned and returned to his work. Marya immediately knew something was up and, noticing the line to the desk was empty, took a seat on the desk beside Pierre. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Pierre grumbled, fishing around in his bag for a pen.

"Mm-hm," Marya said, looking around at the library for a second. "Don't worry."

Pierre looked up. "What?"

"He'll be back, you'll see."

Pierre sighed deeply. "Sure."

 

Pierre was halfway through his analysis when the cramps in his right and left hands became too much and he forced himself to stop. He would just have to come back tomorrow, and hey - that gave him a reason to come back to the library besides watching for Andrey. As soon as he had his stuff packed up he left, the cool October air refreshing compared to the library where he'd been cooped up all day.

This was one of the rare days where Pierre didn't have any classes, and, knowing that entering the small restaurant on campus when he's hungry would be a bad idea, he decided to head home and endure Anatole's helpless pining for Dolokhov. Said pining was extremely evident as soon as Pierre entered their dorm. Anatole was curled on the sofa clutching a box of tissues, a mug of some strange liquid beside him, and a movie about horses on the TV.

Anatole jumped when he heard the door close, face lighting up at Pierre. "Ah, Pierre!" Anatole cried, standing up and racing towards his roommate. "You have to help me - I have an _entire_ plan on how to woo Dolokhov! And it involves none other than..." Anatole finished his sentence with jazz hands on either side of Pierre's face, grabbing Pierre's wrist after he was done.

Pierre sighed, resigned to his fate. "Alright. Explain this to me."


	2. stars are pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Andrey?" Pierre called, or at least he thinks it's Andrey. No, it must be. He can see the tote bag from where he's sitting; the letters glow in the dark, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: liberal amounts of gay in this chapter because i have no self control whatsoever

It's 2 A.M. when Anatole finally falls asleep after explaining his "plan" to Pierre (there was no plan; it was incoherent scribbling on a series of fifty post-it notes). Unfortunately, he fell asleep on Pierre's shoulder, and there's already a little drool stain on the sleeve of Pierre's shirt. Pierre gently untangled himself from Anatole, laying a pillow under his head and a blanket over him before he grabbed his jacket and decided to take a walk around campus. He's not tired, just sleepy, but the smell emanating from Anatole is not pleasant. Pierre's going to make him take a shower when he wakes up.

He left a post-it of his own on Anatole's forehead telling him where he was before leaving their dorm, closing the door as quietly as possible so as not to disturb him. Anatole doesn't sleep that much.

 

There's a pale, autumn moon in the sky surrounded by stars, and the little lights reflect off of the fountain in such a way that they paint themselves all over the ground as well. Pierre's seated on the bench by the fountain when he noticed someone else is out as well.

"Andrey?" Pierre called, or at least he thinks it's Andrey. No, it must be. He can see the tote bag from where he's sitting; the letters glow in the dark, apparently.

Andrey looked up from where he was walking - he seemed to be following the path of stars along the ground - and paused. Pierre thinks he's squinting, and then he smiled, walking quickly towards Pierre.

"Pierre! What are you doing out so late?" Andrey asked, rubbing his hands together and shoving them in his coat pockets. He seemed less flustered than he had in the library earlier.

"I could ask you the same thing," Pierre said, laughing quietly. "My roommate fell asleep on me and it smells like actual hell in there right now."

Andrey grimaced, then looked at Pierre excitedly. "You could come stay with me?"

"I mean, I usually take a guy on a date before I get in his house, but whatever floats your boat," Pierre said, trying to play it off as cool and casual. In reality, Pierre was approximately five seconds from exploding.

Andrey blushed and looked at the ground. "Hey, I'm sorry if that was sudden. I just... wanted to help-"

Pierre laughed. "Andrey, it's fine. I was joking. I would love to come over."

Andrey looked up from the ground and smiled. "Be my guest." He held his hand out to Pierre.

Pierre, heart beating out of his chest, took Andrey's hand. "Man, I love totally platonic hand holding."

"Totally platonic, huh?" Andrey grinned and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yep," Pierre said, letting himself be led by Andrey to his dorm.

 

As soon as they arrived (only after stopping along the way to look at the stars and try and count how many there were), Pierre asked if Andrey has a roommate.

"Yeah, but he's out with someone. Don't ask me who, we barely talk anyways. It seems like you and your roommate are pretty close, though," Andrey responded, hanging his coat on the hooks by the door. "Can I get your coat?"

Pierre tried to hide his blush, hoping he didn't look too flustered. "Yeah, of course. About my roommate; we're close, I guess, but it's nothing. He has his sights set on someone else."

Andrey gently stripped Pierre of his coat and hung it on the hook by his own. "Really?"

"Yeah, this Dolokhov fellow-"

"Hey, that's my roommate!"

Pierre turned around and looked at Andrey. "Really?"

"Yeah, kinda short? Has nice feet?"

Pierre shrugged his shoulders. "I've never met him."

Andrey walked into the living room and lauged. "I've heard he has quite a foot." He flopped down on the couch and gestured for Pierre to join him. "What d'ya wanna watch?"

Pierre sat down on the couch beside him, arms awkwardly squished between them. Andrey laid an arm across the back of the couch ( _OH MY GOOOOOOOD_ , Pierre thought) and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, handing the remote to Pierre. "This is a lot of power," Pierre said quietly. "How do I turn it on?"

"Like this-" and Andrey showed him, pressing his fingers on top of Pierre's who were hovering over the buttons. "I've got Netfilx."

Pierre smiled and immediately knew what movie he wanted to watch. "Okay, close your eyes." Andrey complied and leaned back on the couch, arm falling forwards and laying on Pierre's shoulders. Pierre typed in the movie, hoping that Andrey didn't notice his furious blush that was creeping down his neck, and, after the opening credits, looked to Andrey to see if he recognized the song.

He did, eyes flying open. "Rent!"

Pierre laughed and quietly hummed along to the opening song, not noticing Andrey's quiet singing.

Pierre fell asleep right before "Without You", and Andrey gently eased Pierre's head into the crook between his shoulder and neck, Pierre's even breathing eventually lulling him to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! 
> 
> comments are lovely
> 
> be trash with me on tumblr @singmyselftosleep


	3. here we go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre wakes up and, for a moment, startles.

Pierre wakes up and, for a moment, startles. He's pressed up against someone and the ceiling of where he is isn't familiar. Then the memories of last night flood in - _Andrey, stars across concrete_ \- and he's fine again. Pierre turns slightly and sees Andrey with his mouth hanging open and a string of drool from his mouth to his shirt. His hair is slightly rumpled and Pierre thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's seen in his entire life.

He's allowed to admire Andrey for a moment before he wakes as well, yawning. Andrey looks sleepily at Pierre and smiles. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a little bit," Pierre responds, "it's fine."

Andrey sits up and frowns. Pierre wonders how he's already so awake. "No, I should've made you breakfast or something." Andrey stands and Pierre whines, grabbing for Andrey's hand; he's cold now. "What do you like?"

"You," Pierre says, pouting on the couch and crossing his arms. He doesn't realize what he's just said until Andrey pauses on his way to the kitchen and gives him a funny look. His lip twitches.

"Really?" Andrey asks, "Because we literally just met." His voice is shaking.

Pierre's heart pounds and he tries to backtrack. "Yeah, that's true; hey, I'm sorry, you don't need to make me breakfast, I'll just go-"

Andrey interrupts Pierre: "No, it's fine. Stay." He sits back down beside Pierre and gently takes his hand. "Please."

Pierre nods, the rush of his blood calming with every deep breath. "Here we go?"

"Here we go."

 

Andrey insists on helping Pierre with his Cask of Amontillado analysis and Pierre, despite his initial protests, eventually gives in when Andrey bribes him with coffee. And kisses. And cuddles. And eventually Pierre forgets all about his essay and the only coherent thought in his mind is _Andrey Andrey Andrey_ and Andrey's hands rubbing across his back, chest, hair, cheeks, lips, _everything_.

Andrey slowly slides his hand lower and lower and Pierre sits up straight on Andrey's bed and scoots away quickly. Andrey sits back and, casting Pierre a scared look, begins rambling: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, are you asexual? I'm sorry, I should've asked-"

"Hey," Pierre says a little too forcefully, if Andrey's jump was any indication, "it's fine. I'm asexual? But kissing is totally fine and cuddles are great, just sex is a big no-no."

"Okay," Andrey says. "Okay."

"Calm down, I'm fine."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"Okay."

Pierre scoots back closer to Andrey and makes him lean back on the bed with his arm around Pierre's shoulders, a hand through his hair.

"And this is fine?" Andrey asks worriedly.

"Completely fine," Pierre says.

"And you... like me?" Andrey asks. "Like... _like_ -like me?"

"I _like_ -like you," Pierre says, smiling into Andrey's shoulder. "A lot, actually." Pierre pauses and turns his head to look up at Andrey. "I like your hair, your voice, the way you're so caring and considerate, your _couch_ -"

"My couch?" Andrey says, laughing. "When people ask how we met, are you going to say 'I liked his couch'?"

"Of course," Pierre says. "That's how this works, right?"

"Exactly," Andrey says.

"Great."

"You still need to work on your analysis."

Pierre groans. "Fine."

 

Pierre finishes his analysis and Andrey insists on taking him out somehwere. As it turns out, that somehwere is McDonald's because there are no nice restaurants close to campus. Pierre still thinks it's adorable and fusses over what to wear.

"Do I dress nice?" Pierre asks Andrey over the phone that evening. He's got it on speaker while he rummages through his closet. "I mean, McDonald's isn't a fancy establishment-"

"You could literally wear a plastic bag and I'd think you're adorable, although I don't think that the fellow McDonald's customers would enjoy that very much," Andrey interrupts.

"Fuck them," Pierre says, pulling out a red sweater and grimacing. He trades it for a black one and shrugs. "How's a black sweater?"

"Lovely," Andrey says. "Do you have a blue jacket?"

"I have a scarf."

"I'll wear a blue sweater and a black jacket; we'll be coordinated," Andrey says, the sound of rustling cloth coming through the speaker.

"I hope you know color coordination," Pierre says, "because I have the fashion sense of a squirrel."

Andrey giggles and Pierre's heart flutters in his chest. "Dolokhov is much more talented than I am; I think I picked it up from him."

"I thought you said you didn't talk much?" Pierre asks, looking for a matching pair of socks in his drawers. He comes up with two dark green ones and decides they'll work.

"Yeah," Andrey says, "but I see him enough to know how to match colors."

"That's adorable," Pierre says. "I think that might actually be the cutest thing ever." Pierre swears he can feel Andrey blushing through the phone. There's a lull in the conversation before Andrey asks Pierre if he's ready. "Are you picking me up?" Pierre asks.

"If by 'pick you up' you mean 'walk to your dorm,' then yes," Andrey says. "Be there in a minute, okay?"

Pierre nods before remembering that Andrey can't see him. "Yeah, that's fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short sorry !!! 
> 
> but thanks for reading anyways !!!


End file.
